


Han Solo and Other Adventures in Space and Time

by rainer76



Category: Fringe
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainer76/pseuds/rainer76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Han Solo never lacked for company</p>
            </blockquote>





	Han Solo and Other Adventures in Space and Time

The school kids used to call me Han, she says.As in Solo?That’s cute.At least you had a nickname.Peter considers her, pacing alongside as they climb the steps.It’s the surname he focuses on, thinking Solo, solitude, aloof.Olivia doesn’t bother to correct him.The nickname the kids bestowed on her wasn’t entirely about the composite meaning of the word solo; rather, it was how the character was perceived by fandom at large.

Han Solo was the one character everyone wanted to fuck.

It’s Chris Devon who gives her the nickname, sandy-haired and tow-headed.He claims to be Luke Skywalker. He’s fourteen and mad about _Star Wars_.Come here, he murmurs, and his hand is shaking, gliding over her ribcage, skating under her top.He cups her breast, holds for a heartbeat then trails his fingers to the dip, where her collarbones strive to meet.His palm is warm, fingers a loose flex around her throat.I love you, he says, as if reading from a script.Olivia turns her head, bites the pad of his thumb.She thinks, half-hysterical with laughter, with sensation, that Chris has all of his characters muddled.Han Solo and Luke Skywalker explore together, find the hidden treasures and unexplored caverns of their collective space.It’s an ass backwards version of slash.She buries her mouth against Chris’ shoulder, stomach tight with laughter, and comes.

Han Solo never lacked for company.

Olivia’s not shy for bed partners.She exercises in the pre-dawn hours between four and five am, beanie on her head, feet cutting a path through the snowdrifts as one mile turns into five.She exercises between the sheets, owning her pleasure, ready to curve into each caress, her desire nothing less than frank.She doesn’t wear make-up. Olivia’s body is a long column of what you see is what you get.

When Olivia tells Lincoln her nickname his mouth quirks, eyebrow arched in delight.“Han always was the coolest character.”

He draws gentle fingers across her stomach; thumb angled low, brushing golden hair, dipping into the wetness between her legs.His mouth is warm on her ear.Lincoln takes her against the wall; one of her thighs hitched around his hip, forehead to forehead, each pulsing drive pushing Olivia to her tiptoes.They’re still half-dressed.

The second time they make it to the bed, the heated urgency slowed, tentative with promise.

When Olivia’s memories start to creep in, bleed into her waking world, she’s already been with Lincoln for two months.Lincoln shares Peter’s house, crashes on his couch, the three of them drink beer over cooling pizza.She’s reeling with dizziness, half doubled over when it strikes.She feels Lincoln leave her side and knows instinctively he’s headed toward the kitchen for the migraine tablets. Peter lifts her chin, wipes a cold cloth across her brow. He freezes when Olivia opens her eyes.

“Fuck,” he says, a little unsteadily, and stands up to leave. Ironic, that he recognises her the instant Olivia’s memories rush in.

They call her Han Solo – smuggling away hearts – leaving a trail of men who had fallen in love with her.Olivia was named after a pirate, she doesn’t know how to let her possessions go.“Peter.”She’s not a puritan, never shied from sex.She can smell Lincoln on her skin.Peter’s eyes are a dark shade of blue.She only has to say the words and he’ll stay.Peter was written into her bones in a field of tulips, branded into her mind with a burst of heat.She steadies.Peter always steadies her.

“Liv?” Lincoln says, sounding confused.

Olivia's heartbeat quickens, a rush of uncertainty, a freefall of want and need embodied by two men.“Come here,” she says, an echo of Chris Devon’s command.She was raised in an orphanage, owning nothing, the few things that were Olivia's she learnt to hold onto. She was raised by Nina Sharp, owning everything. She knows the brightness of Peter’s smile, the strange mix of sly sweetness in Lincoln’s laugh.She knows how they move her – like calls to like – and in their separate ways, Lincoln and Peter are pirates too, holding pieces of herself, greedy to the core.

“Come here,” she repeats.

**Author's Note:**

> Olivia's nickname - Han Solo - became canon in season one, episode ten, this story contains a few lines of dialogue from the same episode as well, and reappears here without permission. Regarding the living arrangements, that can be traced back to kerithwyn, who really did come up with the perfect solution.


End file.
